


The Other Side

by Strawberry_Champagne



Category: Tales of Vesperia
Genre: Alternate Universe, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-03
Updated: 2014-09-03
Packaged: 2018-02-16 01:45:42
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,280
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2251341
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Strawberry_Champagne/pseuds/Strawberry_Champagne
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Flynn wondered about the man who was always causing trouble for the knights in the Lower Quarter, but he hadn't known just <i>how</i> frustrating he could be. (An AU in which Yuri and Flynn don't meet until Flynn is already an Imperial knight.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Yuri Lowell’s criminal record was a thick sheaf of paper, kept in its own box in the room where information was stored for the Imperial Knights. It started before he even entered his teenage years—petty theft of food in the markets, taunting of the guards who came down into the Lower Quarter. Once Yuri was old enough to be considered a fully aware participant in his crimes, the charges only stacked up until he was marked as one to watch in his quarter.

Age twelve, pushed a knight into a fountain. Fifteen, tavern fistfight. Seventeen, chasing tax collectors away with a sword. Breaking and entering of unoccupied buildings. Mouthing off to authorities—a lot of this.

Of note was the fact that he did not participate in the more disturbing categories of criminal behavior: assault, murder, arson and the like. He didn’t cause wanton damage to property or individuals, which was likely the reason he had not been simply locked away as a danger to society. And when the young man did do jail time, his actions usually only warranting a stay of a day or three, he sat quietly without complaint until the knights reluctantly let him out again.

All in all, Flynn Scifo thought that he sounded _very_ strange.

Flynn had only been a knight himself for a couple of years, spending much of the first year or so out in the field honing the skills he would need to rise in the ranks. If he played his cards right, he was convinced he could make Captain before long. But even while traveling with his brigade, the odd story of this individual would come up in camp, men and women shaking their heads as they recalled a time when he had made their job difficult.

So the day that Flynn was part of a group that got called down into the Lower Quarter on a request tagged with his name, he couldn’t help being a little curious.

Assumptions were inevitable after hearing about this guy for so long, but when they found Yuri, blocking the door of a two-story building, Flynn had to admit that he was pretty much the opposite of what he expected. Instead of your typical brawny street tough, he was tall and slender, pale with dark hair that was long as a girl’s. He stood there with a hand resting on one hip, challenging the knights to come closer with one raised brow and a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth.

“Haven’t had enough yet? Hm, suit yourselves.” He shrugged a shoulder, gazing up at the sky as if he couldn’t be bothered to pay attention to the half dozen knights arranged around him. Another pair of armored men, apparently the source of the request, stood nearby and shifted from one boot to the other.

“He won’t move,” one finally ventured. “We have orders to confiscate the owner’s property but he won’t let us in.”

A senior officer made a skeptical face. “You’re armed, aren’t you? Those weapons weren’t issued to look pretty on your belt, you know.”

The knights exchanged glances, and Flynn thought he saw Yuri’s upper body shake for a moment in silent laughter. One of the men rubbed furtively at his lower back—a closer look revealed a bit more dirt on his tunic than would be caused just by walking around in the Lower Quarter.

“Pathetic,” said the officer. “We’ll deal with you two later. Knights, apprehend this man.”

Yuri sprang into action, tossing away the sheath to the sword held by a cord in his left hand as he twisted under the arm of the nearest man attempting to restrain him. He held the sword in front of him, dark eyes narrowing as he kept all his potential captors at arm’s length. The officer muttered darkly.

“Weapons at the ready,” he ordered. “Non-fatal blows preferred.”

The man seemed unfazed by the ambiguous order, neatly dodging and deflecting his opponents, even tossing one of the knights onto their back with a twisting kick. The original knights, apparently figuring they were already in trouble and not wishing a repeat of earlier, had backed off—ostensibly to block Yuri if he decided to retreat, Flynn assumed, though no one would be fooled by that excuse.

While he did not knock down anyone else and no blood was drawn, the encounter seemed to be a standoff for a quite impressive length of time considering the odds stacked against Yuri Lowell. Where had he learned to fight like that? And a better question—where had he gotten the bohdi blastia encircling his wrist? Stolen, almost certainly. Even when he didn’t employ artes though, his form and style was nearly flawless.

Then Yuri spun toward Flynn, and their swords connected with a metallic clang. Flynn pushed the other weapon away, leaping back and avoiding an attempt from the dark-haired man to sweep his legs out from under him. Yuri nodded, as if impressed, then dashed back toward him with a flurry of strikes that Flynn matched with a deft twist of his wrist. He was a little surprised to find an equal in combat here of all places—or, well, almost. Yuri’s next attack was too aggressive, leaving him open in a way that just any opponent might not be able to exploit, but Flynn didn’t think of himself as ordinary. He pressed forward, delivering a solid blow to Yuri’s side with the blunt edge of his sword, and while he grunted in pain and automatically clutched at it, took the opportunity to send Yuri’s sword flying off into the dirt.

The man blinked at his weapon, now out of reach, and then at Flynn.

“Huh,” he said.

It was a simple matter after that to tie Yuri’s hands and lead him up to the castle, docile as anything and as if he hadn’t just held his own for several minutes in a six-to-one fight with the Empire’s finest. Yes, he was _definitely_ a strange one.

* * * *

The list of charges that Yuri had accumulated in one afternoon—impeding the Empire’s business, bearing weapons against Imperial knights, resisting arrest _twice_ —meant a somewhat longer stay in the small castle jail meant for short-term prisoners. It was determined by the officials that two weeks should give him some time to think about his behavior. Whatever good that would do.

Know your enemy, they said, and when Flynn found himself visiting the jail a few days later with a spare hour to burn, it was that principle rather than curiosity that he claimed as his motivation. He nodded to the jailer, who stared back with utter disinterest before returning to shuffle through a pile of paperwork on his desk. Flynn didn’t envy the man his position. Yuri was in one of the first cells, stretched out on his narrow cot with one knee raised and his hands laced behind his head. At Flynn’s footsteps, his eyes opened and a wry grin spread across his face.

“Hey,” he said. “I’ve got a wicked bruise because of you. You should see it. It’s disgusting.”

Flynn’s eyes flickered to the spot where he had struck the other man, then back to his face, where that grin seemed even wider. “I’ll take your word for it.”

Yuri nodded, pulling himself up into a sitting position.

“So. Here to gloat? Or maybe just to check on me. That’s sweet, but I’m fine.” He pushed a section of dark strands away from his face, letting them fall back over his shoulder.

Flynn could feel his cheeks heat up even as he was determined not to let Yuri get to him. Why was he down here again? Right, so that he could better understand the mind of the Lower Quarter’s most notorious delinquent. He cleared his throat.

“You seem to end up here quite often.” As an opener, it wasn’t the most subtle, but Flynn thought that subtlety wasn’t really this guy’s style in the first place.

Yuri’s gaze focused on his visitor once more. “Not like I enjoy it, you know. If you want weird, ask the guy in the cell next to me—he claims these things are actually comfortable.” He prodded the hard material of the cot, shaking his head.

Flynn sidestepped to glance in the cell next-door and sighed when his suspicions were confirmed: Captain Schwann, still in his brigade uniform, curled up and snoring. Considering that, he really had no right to think of Yuri as the strange one. Flynn returned to the other man, who gave him a look like ‘see what I mean?’

“What do you want to hear, anyway? Tales of a tortured childhood that led to life of crime?” He raised an eyebrow. “Maybe someone sent you down here to find out. Well, get used to being disappointed.” Yuri lay back down, eyes closing again.

“That’s not…” Flynn frowned. “I just…”

“Hey, when you figure out how to finish those sentences, maybe then we’ll talk.” The man’s mouth twitched, and Flynn stared at him for a moment before turning on his heel and stalking back up the stairs.

* * * *

“The man is insufferable.”

Flynn paced in front of the large window in his knight quarters, pouring out his frustrations to the one person he knew would always listen: his truest friend in the castle, the princess Estellise. She sat on the edge of his bed as he vented about his latest encounter with Yuri Lowell, which went about as well as that first visit.

“He gives me such a headache.” Flynn huffed a sigh, running fingers through slightly tangled hair. “The constant sarcasm, and that mocking smirk of his…”

Estellise giggled, a sharp and sudden burst of laughter that she quickly stifled, and Flynn whipped his head around to look at her. “What?”

“It’s just, um...it sort of sounds like you have a crush on him.”

Estellise’s eyes sparkled with amusement as a beat of silence followed her accusation.

“I…what? Where would you even get that idea? That’s…that’s just…” Flynn fished around for the best way to describe just _how_ wrong his friend was, vaguely aware that he was sputtering in a none-too-convincing manner.

She raised her hands, conceding the point. “I’m sorry, Flynn. My mistake.” But the small smile didn’t leave her lips.

It was, then, completely Estellise’s fault that the absurd idea kept tumbling around in Flynn’s mind for the rest of the day and into the next, when his feet made their way down that dark staircase again despite himself. Yuri was sitting sideways on the cot with his head resting against the wall and his eyes darted over, infuriatingly nonchalant.

“You might want to think about why you’re visiting me so much. A guy might get the wrong idea.”

Flynn’s breath stuck in his throat for a moment but he quickly recovered, glaring at the other man. Alright, this ridicule had gone too far. He just wanted to understand Yuri’s delinquency, to better be able to handle the situations as a knight. That was all. It finally occurred to him that he should probably say something, as he was pretty sure he was being laughed at by those intense dark eyes that weren’t interesting in any way.

“What will you do when you’re released?” Flynn found himself asking. Only a handful of days remained in Yuri’s original sentence, thought there was some debate about extending it considering his repeat offenses.

The question earned him a look of amusement. “Oh, I thought I’d go stir up some more trouble. Maybe start a bar fight or two. You know.” His eyes rolled up toward the ceiling. “What’s it to you, anyway?”

“Just curious. You don’t seem particularly anxious to get back.”

Yuri laughed a little. “Oh, believe me. I want out of here as soon as possible. But what’s the point in making yourself crazy over something you can’t control?”

Well, he had a point there.

“I’m feeling generous today,” he continued, “so I’m even going to answer your question. When I get back, I’ll do the same thing I always do: work in exchange for food and shelter. I’ve got a pretty good deal going. Can’t complain much.”

“…work?”

Another eye roll. “Right, I forgot. I only steal things and cause trouble.”

Flynn shifted a bit uncomfortably. “That’s not what I meant.”

“Uh huh. Anyway, if you really need to know, my being here means that there’s a bunch of people in the Lower Quarter without a swordsman to keep the bad guys away.” Yuri shrugged. “Reputation will probably hold them off until I get back, but the townsfolk can’t be too happy right now.”

Wait. So Yuri… “You’re a bodyguard?” Was that what he was doing when the knights showed up?

“Sure. I guess. So, is sharing hour over now? I don’t get a lot of sleep in here.”

His eyes closed and Flynn took a moment to mull over what Yuri had just told him. If he was to understand it correctly, then most of the man’s crimes would actually be him doing his job to keep the people of the Lower Quarter safe. Of course, there was no doubt that he had obstructed the knights in their duties on several occasions, but did his actions ultimately serve justice in the end? Even Flynn had to admit that the orders given to the knights, particularly among the poorer communities, could be a bit tyrannical and unfair. It wasn’t _his_ place to question them, but the sense of doubt was still there. And if certain people had their way, how long would Yuri be stuck down here? What if he prevented more crime than he actually caused?

“If I were to step too close to your cell,” said Flynn, very quietly, “and you were to steal my key, which is in the right-hand pocket…”

Yuri’s brows shot up and he looked like he was about to say something, but Flynn kept talking, lest he lose his nerve. “…and if I were to have a heated discussion with the jailer who didn’t notice you slipping by…well, that would be a tragic but unavoidable string of unfortunate events, wouldn’t it?”

“It would,” Yuri agreed, flashing a grin. “Huh. Not really sure what to think about that.”

His demeanor changed, dropping the devious expression for a more genuine smile that did funny things to Flynn’s stomach. Though the gesture was unnecessary considering the mutual nature of the plan, Flynn didn’t even feel the key being lifted from his pocket. He supposed that Yuri _would_ have had practice with that sort of thing, which briefly made him consider the insanity of letting this guy out of jail on purpose in the first place. Well, he’d deal with his guilty conscience later. Events had already been set into motion.

To be honest, Flynn wasn’t sure it would be possible to stir up the jailer enough to distract him, but it turned out that “accidentally” knocking over a tall stack of recently organized papers did the trick. While the man grumbled as he dove behind his desk to retrieve the documents, Flynn saw dark hair stream by out of the corner of his eye. With the jailer occupied, he glanced over just as Yuri casually waved his hand through the air, mouthing “see you around” before he turned to jog up the stairs.

And Flynn supposed that he would, at that.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Flynn wondered about the man who was always causing trouble for the knights in the Lower Quarter, but he hadn't known just how frustrating he could be. (An AU in which Yuri and Flynn don't meet until Flynn is already an Imperial knight.)

Flynn lost sleep for a week after his involvement in Yuri Lowell’s escape from the castle prison, until he was able to determine that no one suspected he had anything to do with it. In fact, he only continued to receive honors and glowing praise for his service, each commendation a small step closer to captaining his own brigade. So he worked diligently, putting in long hours of drills and exercises, volunteering for trips out of the city to far corners of the Empire that needed the knights’ assistance. Falling into bed exhausted every night, little time remained for thoughts of a sarcastic swordsman, for dark eyes and darker hair. It was four months later when Flynn blinked down at a report where a familiar name leapt out at him, bringing everything back with startling immediacy.

“That doesn’t seem right,” he muttered, though not quietly enough. One of the higher-ranking knights standing nearby raised a bushy eyebrow.

“There a problem, boy?” The man crossed his arms. “Know something that the captain don’t?”

Flynn shook his head quickly, but still frowned at the report. It detailed the recent activities of a group of thieves who had been terrorizing the Lower Quarter, raiding merchant stalls and private homes and threatening citizens with brandished weapons. Yuri had been sighted among them a few times—his name appeared as a possible leader, with a question mark beside it.

It didn’t seem consistent with what Flynn had learned of the man. But if he had been wrong…? A chill ran down his spine. It was his responsibility, then, to discover the truth. Flynn set out to make sure he was part of the group assigned to deal with the problem, only to find his name already listed. Apparently, his part in disarming and capturing Lowell had been noted by the higher-ups. Well, that certainly made things simpler.

Dusk was falling when the knights made their way down into the winding, poorly-maintained streets of the Lower Quarter, the time of day that the thieves had tended to make their move. Information had been planted about a vulnerable merchant to lure them into an ambush, though it was uncertain whether the bait would be taken or what numbers they could expect. The knights, ten of them including Flynn, felt confident they could handle whatever came their way.

When they arrived at the square that had been designated as the spot the nonexistent merchant kept shop, the men fanned out and took up their positions to wait—some on the roof, some inside buildings, others at every possible entrance on the ground. Flynn stood just inside a narrow alley, eyes scanning the area for the first sign of movement. But it was one of their own that stirred on the roof, calling out with a frantic edge to his voice.

“They’re behind us! They’re—” He tumbled from the roof with a thrown knife in his back, and Flynn caught a brief glimpse of his face before he struck the ground. A fairly new recruit; this had been his first major assignment with the brigade.

Flynn grimaced, but stood his ground. The rest of the knights sprang into action, those on the roof spinning to face the thieves that snuck up behind them. So much for hoping they would be tricked with false information. They would just have to adjust their strategy and compensate for the lost advantage of surprise.

Before long, the square was choked with men and women shouting, weapons clashing, thieves in mismatched leather and knights in armor that caught and reflected moonlight. Enemies leapt down from rooftops, landing with practiced ease and joining the fight. The Empire’s swordsmen were outnumbered but fought well, striking with broadswords and halberds of far better quality than their opponents’ weapons. Slowly, the numbers turned in their favor.

In his alley, Flynn held back a group of four thieves, three men and a woman. One fell, and the others closed in—as Flynn held his sword out, calculating his odds against his skill, he heard someone drop to the ground behind him. When the individual failed to stick Flynn with a blade, he turned his head slightly and sucked in a small breath.

“Mind if I take care of a few of these guys myself?” Yuri stepped up beside him, sword in hand. “I’ve had my eye on them for a while, so thanks for flushing them out.”

Flynn nodded. “Of course.” 

As they moved to engage with the enemy, Flynn felt an odd sense of relief that they were fighting on the same side. He’d thought the report must be wrong, but that tiny bit of doubt had been bothering him more than he had realized. The Empire couldn’t have known Yuri was actually protecting Lower Quarter citizens from people like these thieves—Flynn only knew because of his visits to the man’s jail cell. If they had seen Yuri anywhere near a group of criminals, it would be natural for them to assume that he was involved with them. 

Flynn had just finished dispatching one of the men, who slumped with a groan to the packed dirt. Suddenly, a hand at his shoulder pushed him roughly sideways, spinning him around until his back hit the brick wall and the air was knocked out of him. He blinked at the woman who had driven her blade into the spot where he had been standing, but now lay still among the others. Yuri stood in front of him, and without thinking about it Flynn darted a hand out to firmly grasp the man’s wrist. Nearby, the sound of fighting had become much quieter; it would be over soon. When Yuri lifted a dark brow and spoke, his voice was thick with sarcasm.

“You’re welcome.”

“There’s a warrant out for your arrest,” said Flynn, a bit breathlessly. 

Yuri tugged at the grip on his wrist experimentally. “Is that so,” he said, with a lop-sided smile. “But you’re the one who let me out in the first place. Are you trying to tell me that it’s still your knightly duty to bring me in?”

Flynn frowned. “It would look suspicious if I just let you go. I could be demoted, or worse.”

“Well, we wouldn’t want that.” Yuri chuckled, then tilted his head. “Lucky for you, I always have a back-up plan.”

With his free hand, Yuri grasped Flynn’s tunic and tugged him forward, lips moving against his in a fierce kiss that left him gasping. Yuri’s wrist slipped free and the man slowly backed away, smirking even more fiendishly than usual.

“And that’s how I got away,” he said. “Though if you want to come up with a different story to tell your superiors, I’ll understand.”

Laughing, Yuri turned and sprinted back down the alley. Flynn stood frozen, two fingers pressed against his lips as he watched him disappear around the corner.

* * * *

Flynn took the stairs two at a time, barely noticing the strange looks he received from the castle guards as he stalked down the upper hallway. When he reached his destination and rapped on the door, Flynn realized that he walked a fine line between politeness and urgency, but there was nothing to be done about it. He needed to talk to her.

Estellise responded quickly, poking her head around the door with a startled expression.

“Flynn, are you okay?” She bit her lip. “I heard about the terrible attack in the Lower Quarter; they said four knights were killed, but that you weren’t one of them. Were you hurt?”

“Ah, no. I’m fine.” Flynn rubbed the back of his neck. “I mean…I wasn’t injured.”

“That’s good.” The door opened wider, Estellise motioning him inside. “It seems to have upset you, though. Please, come in.”

In truth, Flynn was bothered by the death of fellow knights, even the ones he didn’t know well—it stung whenever any of them were lost, made him wonder if any of his actions could have prevented it. Considering that, he felt a bit selfish for the frivolous concerns that had really driven him here.

“You were right about him,” he said without preamble. Estellise perched on the edge of the bed, hands resting demurely on her lap. She looked confused by his abrupt statement.

“I was right…?”

“About Yuri. You know. He was in the prison some months ago.”

Her brow remained knitted together for a moment, but smoothed when blue-green eyes widened with realization.

“Oh! Yes, I remember. Um. What was I right about?”

Flynn stifled a sigh. It wasn’t exactly something he wanted to be forced to explain. Yet once again, it couldn’t be helped. Against his better judgment, Flynn told Estellise everything.

“He kissed you?” She fairly squeaked the words. Estellise seemed far too excited by the whole thing, beside herself with glee over an encounter between a delinquent and the rising star of the Imperial Knights, who had just admitted to illegally setting him free.

“He was trying to escape,” Flynn pointed out, but the princess shook her head.

“There are other ways he could have gotten away, Flynn. I really think he must have wanted to do it.” She said this emphatically, as if that were the final word on the issue. Flynn wasn’t sure if he would be more nervous if Estellise was wrong, or if she was right.

“Do you really think so?”

“Oh, yes.” She smiled brightly at him. “So, um, was he a good kisser?”

The question was asked so innocently that it nearly knocked Flynn over. He could feel a deep blush coming on, creeping up his neck to warm his cheeks.

“I’ve never been kissed like that before,” he said, and that was the simple truth.

* * * *

Two more months passed, marked with the same hectic activity as the ones that came before it. Flynn’s life was the Knights; he ate, breathed and slept to its relentless march of responsibilities. He was just beginning to see a glimmer of pay-off on the horizon for his exemplary service—his latest assignment was a major undertaking, to root out one of the most notorious and troublesome gangs in the capital city. If he successfully led a raid against that group, they would be sure to include him in the nominations for Captain when the time came.

The only problem was that Flynn hadn’t a clue where to begin searching for their base of operations, didn’t have the slightest idea who their leaders might be. But he thought he might know someone who did.

Even someone as prone to denial as Flynn had to admit there was a personal angle to the reason he found himself in one of the more prosperous sections of the Lower Quarter that afternoon, alone and dressed in uniform rather than his armor. Though aware that he must be breaking several laws by seeking the assistance of a wanted criminal, Flynn also felt that the man was his best shot at success in one of the most crucial missions of his career. It was beside the point that in recent months there had been far too many stolen moments remembering the ghost of a sensation, wondering who this Yuri Lowell was and when he would see him again.

It had been remarkably easy to find out where the man lived. Infamous with the knights, Yuri was equally well-known—but also loved—in the Lower Quarter. Despite Flynn’s obvious affiliation with the Knights, he still encountered individuals willing to direct him to the inn where Yuri earned his room and board. A few spoke of him with affectionate gruffness, hoping he wasn’t in trouble but unsurprised if that were the case. Their helpfulness seemed a bit odd, but who was Flynn to complain?

A weathered board read “The Comet” in painted letters—it swayed in the wind as Flynn peered at it. 

“Care for a mug of ale?” A stout woman directed a friendly smile at Flynn, having paused in her task of sweeping the small tavern’s floor with a broom made from bundled rushes. “You should come in out of that wind. It wouldn’t do to get that fine uniform of yours covered with the dust of the streets.”

Flynn returned her smile politely. “I’m looking for someone, actually. I had been told that he lives here.”

“Is that so?” Leaning on the broom, the woman tilted her head, expression becoming more guarded. “There’s a few men lodging under this roof, but may I ask who it is that’s asking?”

“Flynn Scifo.” No sooner had his name escaped his lips than the woman smiled like a cat who had finally captured its prey. On her round, pretty face, it was rather disturbing—Flynn blinked at her, wondering what he had done.

She turned and called into the tavern’s back room. After a moment, a girl appeared, drying her hands on a towel.

“What is it, Nell?”

The still-grinning woman leaned in, gesturing at Flynn with her thumb. “It’s Yuri’s knight.”

As the girl gasped in a way that brought Estellise to mind, Flynn frowned slightly. _His_ knight? What did _that_ mean? And why did Flynn kind of like how it sounded?

“Yuri never told us you were so handsome,” the girl breathed. “Oh! You’ll want to see him, I suppose. Um. I think he’s home.” She dropped the towel on the tavern’s counter, taking Flynn by the arm and leading him outside. 

Instead of taking the stairs that ran up the left side of the building, the girl craned her neck up toward the inn’s second story. An open window faced the street, and it was there that she directed her words. There was a lot of shouting at this inn, Flynn reflected.

“Yuuuuri. You have a visitor.” 

His voice drifted down from the room, friendly and casual. “Is it Ted? Tell him I’m not done fixing his sparring sword yet, but it’s almost—” Yuri appeared at the window then, his arms braced against the sill. “Oh. You’re not Ted.” He tilted his head, lips curved in a small, amused smile.

“No,” Flynn agreed, and then didn’t know what else to say. Yuri solved the problem by leaping neatly over the windowsill and landing on the ground in front of him, laughing as Flynn staggered back in shock.

“He’s always doing that,” the girl said, pouting. “Going to break his fool neck one of these days, that’s what Nell tells him.”

Yuri snorted, waving her concerns away dismissively. “It’s only one story. That’s nothing. I’ve done it thousands of times.”

“All the same,” she said with a sniff. “I’ll leave you to your knight, then. There’s work to be done.”

Yuri watched her go and then turned back to Flynn, shrugging. “Heh. Sorry about that. I tell them about someone that helped me out, and they’re rushing off to plan the wedding. It works out well for you, though.”

Flynn blinked, his mind having screeched to a halt halfway through Yuri’s words. “W-why is that?”

“I’m pretty popular in this Quarter, if you hadn’t noticed.” He smirked. “Knights aren’t well-liked around here, but word spreads quickly if there’s an exception.”

Flynn nodded; that made sense. “I see. I had thought it odd how willing people were to help me find you.”

“Right. Anyway, since you’re obviously not planning to arrest me,” said Yuri, raising an eyebrow, “what brings you out here?”

So Flynn explained and Yuri listened, arms crossed and expression unreadable. He didn’t say anything for a moment after Flynn finished, which made him a bit nervous. 

“So let me get this straight. You want me to help you track down a large, dangerous gang that is based somewhere in Zaphias and ultimately break them up so they aren’t as powerful, but you have no idea yet how this would be accomplished.”

Well, it certainly didn’t sound very promising when he put it that way. Flynn nodded grimly, and was surprised when Yuri’s stoic expression broke into a wicked grin.

“Sounds like fun. When do we start?”

* * * *

With Yuri’s help, the mission wasn’t nearly as impossible a task as Flynn had feared. It turned out that he did, in fact, have some knowledge about their activities, even some leads concerning where they might be based. He worked closely with Flynn over the next month, sometimes at the inn and a few times even sneaking into the castle itself with information he felt couldn’t wait, much to Flynn’s chagrin. 

The man frayed his nerves, was unpredictable and often frustrating. But when they sparred or laughed together, Flynn couldn’t think of anyone else he would rather spend time with. Estellise said it was love, a faraway dreamy look in her eyes, and Flynn didn’t know about that, but he couldn’t deny that the friendship developing with Yuri was something special, something he couldn’t define.

When the gang’s power was finally shattered, it wasn’t long until Flynn’s name appeared high on the list for promotion. On the day he finally was named Captain of his own brigade, Yuri dragged him off to a Public Quarter tavern where he ordered round after round of drinks and called increasingly ridiculous toasts until Flynn’s head swam. He would wake the next morning cursing Yuri’s name, but as his friend walked him back to the castle with a steadying arm slung around his shoulders, Flynn thought sleepily that his pleased grin could light up the whole damn city.

Even after that mission, Flynn went to Yuri before anyone else when a problem stumped him or an enemy eluded him. He wasn’t a knight and probably shouldn’t have been so involved in their affairs—in fact, he admitted to holding the organization as a whole in fairly low regard—but Yuri helped in the background where he could. Until one day when he killed a man that should have been held for trial, and Flynn had to force himself to distance himself from his friend for a time. 

It was painful, but necessary. Yet it was almost inevitable that their paths would cross again, when Commandant Alexei began gathering apatheia in his mad plan to acquire the power of Zaude and almost destroyed the world. Though their ideals and methods often clashed, Flynn felt an immense relief to be at Yuri’s side through much of that crisis. Their friendship renewed as it if had never stopped—and they gained new friends, strengthened by what they had weathered together. 

Almost a year passed since that first kiss, a year of promotions and adventure and brushes with death, but it was never repeated in all that time. Flynn had never stopped being attracted to his friend, but with everything that had gone on, the right moment just didn’t come around. Sometimes he wondered if it had been a fluke, if they had in some way moved past the point where they might become more to each other. He tried not to think about it, though not with much success. 

One afternoon, Yuri found his file. They were in the office of Imperial records, Flynn sifting through the previous Commandant’s reports at the desk and thinking there must be a more efficient way to organize these things, when a low whistle from the other side of the room pulled his attention away.

“Hey Flynn, is all this really just for me?” Yuri sounded impressed with himself. “I forgot about that one. Oh, yeah. That one, too. Hmm.” 

“You’re not supposed to be looking at that,” Flynn said halfheartedly. He looked up when Yuri came over and leaned against the desk, smirking down at him.

“I’m not supposed to be here at all.”

Flynn sighed. “Don’t remind me.” He returned his attention to the reports, doing his best to put the latest rule Yuri had prompted him to break out of his mind. But the man wouldn’t leave him alone.

“You shouldn’t hunch over like that. You’re gonna mess up your back, man.” Yuri pushed away from the desk, sliding around to stand behind Flynn’s chair. Flynn stiffened with surprise when hands settled on his shoulders.

“Yeah, I thought so. You’re really tense.” Yuri dug into the muscles in Flynn’s back with his thumbs, working them in tight semi-circles. When he applied pressure to a matched pair of tender knots near his shoulder blades, Flynn let out a soft grunt that was half pleasure and half pain. Just when he was starting to feel loosened up, Yuri abruptly pulled his hands away.

“That feels good, don’t—” Flynn’s complaint was cut off with a sharp breath as Yuri trailed a knuckle down his spine and back up, slow and feather light. 

Flynn swallowed, his pulse speeding up until it seemed to him that Yuri would be able to hear it hammering in his chest. He was fairly certain that things had moved beyond a platonic shoulder massage, if in fact it had ever been. 

Yuri’s hand came to rest at the base of Flynn’s neck, and he caressed the skin there with his thumb. “So,” he said, a hint of a question in the word.

“So,” Flynn replied softly. He pushed his chair out from the desk and reached back for Yuri’s arm to draw him out in front of him. A gentle tug on his wrist was all the encouragement Yuri needed to slide down over Flynn’s lap, straddling him. One hand moved up to tangle in his hair, the other to his jaw, scrubbing over light golden stubble that had grown in since Flynn had holed himself up in this room for the better part of the past few days. Flynn laced his hands around Yuri’s waist and pulled him closer.

And when they kissed, it was even better than Flynn remembered—probably _was_ better, more passionate, slower. It also lasted a whole lot longer, and wasn’t going to end with Yuri running away from him, laughing. The Commandant part of Flynn’s mind said there were things that you probably weren’t supposed to do in the office of records. But the larger part of his mind that was occupied by a certain Yuri Lowell didn’t care. Not even a little.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Originally posted on LJ writing journal, December 23, 2009.

**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted on LJ writing journal, November 27, 2009.


End file.
